


Middle C

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Piano, piano lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Heya! Could I get one about Flake teaching the reader to play piano? <3'Sure can! Adorable boy.





	Middle C

“ _Was ist los?_ ”

You look up, and Flake is standing in the doorway, those wide pale eyes fixed on you.

“Sorry. I, uh… was just…” You gesture at the keyboard, and hit the off button. A beat starts playing, and you swallow sharply. “Oh, shit, I, uh…” You press another button, and the infernal device screams ‘DJ!!!’ like the ghost of a thousand high school music lessons. “Oh, shit…” Your flailing fingers add a jazzy trumpet backing track, and you close your eyes.

“ _Erlaube mir._ ” He steps forward and presses a button that makes the damn thing shut up, and you cringe. “What did you do,  _Sonnenblümchen_?”

“I’m… I mean, it was on, and I thought I’d just have a mess about.” Your face is burning, and he smiles at you. “I… uh… it was bad. I’m sorry.”

“ _Es ist noch kein Meister vom Himmel gefallen_ ,” he says, and you grin at him.

“Okay, let me try that one. It is…”

“You would say ‘practise makes perfect’,” he says, too impatient to wait for you to translate. He’s like that, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. “Come here.” You shuffle over. “Do you want that in German as well?”

“Alright, alright.”

“Have you ever played Chopsticks?” he asks, and you shake your head. You’re more of a writer, really. “Okay. Come here, I said, I do not bite. Except on request.” You grin, and he moves you in front of him. He doesn’t have trouble seeing over your head. He barely has trouble seeing over Till’s. “Now, come here…”

He takes your hand, and you feel your heart flutter gently.

“Okay. Fingers here. No, here.” He sighs, and manoeuvres your hand, before delicately and a little sarcastically placing each finger correctly. “This is middle C.”

“I know  _that_ ,” you say, and he folds his arms.

“Wow, I am happy, you may replace me at the next show,” he says, and there’s a slight reproachfulness in his tone – you realise he’s trying to share with you here something that means a lot to him, and you put your finger to your lips.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

“Anyway, your thumb goes… no.” He closes his eyes. “<God has not graced your nation with patience, has he?>” You look up at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Thumb  _here_. Now…” He presses one of your fingers down with his, and you look back up at him. “That is… see if you can find out, this key here is C…”

“It’s an E?” You bite back a retort that you have seen pianos before and know how they work, and just settle for bonding time with your very own alien. Maybe afterwards you can have some Reese’s Pieces and phone home a little. In all fairness, you did just set off DJ mode. You know how the keys work, it’s the settings on this keyboard that’re giving you trouble…

He doesn’t answer, but kisses the side of your head gently, and you can’t help but smile.

“Okay, so… press them.” You do so, and he shakes his head, gently laying his fingers atop yours. “Harder. Like this.  _Staccato_.” He taps the little LCD screen. “It is sensitive to…” He makes a jabby motion with his other hand, and you nod. “ _Druckempfindlich_.”

You lean forward, and try the jabbing motion, and indeed, it is louder. Will technology never cease to amaze?

“Okay. Like so…  _ein-zwei-drei-vier-funf-sechs_. It is in… uh… 6:8 time.” You turn around, so you are facing him, and he looks at you, inches away from your face. “I am sorry. I do not accept sex as payment. This is not the kind of teacher that I am.” You fold your arms, and he kisses you. “Turn around. I will get you to play this if it kills me, which you undoubtedly will.”

You turn, and his hands rest on the back of yours; you lean back, and he kisses the top of your head. You are happy you took the effort to get through that sour exterior. There’s so much sweetness underneath.


End file.
